


The scent of him

by CockAsInTheBird



Series: Saturday to Saturday [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Anal, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Harrington, Caught, Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Consent, Fingering, First Time, Fucking, Harringrove, Just Dudes Being Dudes, Kissing, M/M, POV Steve Harrington, Period-Typical Homophobia, Semi slowburn, Top Billy Hargrove, Unresolved Feelings, Yearning, aching, at Billy's house, billy got a fat cock, bisexuals, brief masturbation, in Billy's bed, the smell of Billy's sweat makes Steve horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/pseuds/CockAsInTheBird
Summary: Like a magnet to metal, Steve's whole world gets pulled down, closer. He slips out of his sandals, onto his knees, hands on either side of the pillow to keep him from crashing into it as he nearly jumps forward.This is a place he never thought to be, never even could have imagined to experience, in Hargrove's room, on his cheap, shitty mattress, fists closing around the sheets. He should stop; he really should go sit on the sofa instead, or go wait in the living room, pretend he never came to know such a strong scent, his strong scent, that he never reached a realization.To realize this, this... this one thing, Nancy never could have given him, this one thing he never could have asked of her. Never would have asked of anyone. Could have gone all his life without this, blissfully unaware of something waiting to awaken inside, wanting to awaken. But now, slowly, the curtain to his subconscience pulled aside, slightly, just enough to give a bit more than a simple peek at what's behind.Enough for him to...
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Saturday to Saturday [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725133
Comments: 13
Kudos: 297





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd be one to write Harringrove fanfiction, actually..  
> Always wanted to, though, and after having consumed *hundreds* of stories about these two, I just couldn't hold back anymore!!!
> 
> Story turned out way longer than intended; way way *way* longer.  
> 18 fucking pages, and they don't fuck till page 15.. This is the closest to "slow-burn" I'll ever get.
> 
> Decided to split it up because of that, tho, but have fun going through it all, because I *really* enjoyed writing it all out for you guys!
> 
> EDIT: Holy shit this got 1k views in like 3 days!!! And over 100 kudos now, thank you! Love each and every one of you!

They're friends now. _Ish_. Friend-ish. Not quite strangers, not really friends, but definitely not enemies anymore, right?

After everyone heard about Nancy breaking up with Steve – breaking his heart – Billy changed, sort of. There was never a proper “Sorry for hitting you” spoken, and he did still tease him and call him _pretty boy_ , but it was all less... venomous, for a lack of better term. The words didn't change, but the tone did, and maybe that's why Steve agreed to this; let his guard down.

Maybe he was just lonely and sad, in need of a distraction after... after Nancy... and Jonathan... And although he loves hanging out with Dustin - the little brother he never had, and the gang, sometimes he needed more mature conversations; to be out with people his own age that didn't obsess over video games or talk about their relentless girl crushes.

So here he is. In his brown BMW, in front of the Hargrove house, blue camaro parked in front of him.

“This is a bad idea,” Steve mumbles into his hands where they hold an iron grip on the steering wheel.

He looks at the fancy, beautiful car, wonders about how his life before Billy now seem so faded- so color-less, before that deep blue parked itself at their school, before those icy clear blue eyes pierced their way into his. Back when _he_ was king, and not this... Californian _Adonis_.

A groan escapes him when he screws his eyes shut, and hits his forehead with a _thunk_ against the wheel.

There's no one around for him to lie to, lie about his thoughts, about the _urges_ he's been ignoring since... since blue was introduced to his life. Even in his own mind, when he thinks about those golden curls, the thick lashes, and _undoubtedly_ waxed chest, it's as if those thoughts came barreling out of nowhere, yet they felt oddly familiar. Not exactly his, but also not from someone else. Seared into his mind somewhere from the moment he first saw _him_.

Hesitantly he opens his eyes, looks to his right on the passenger seat, to where his backpack filled with homework sits next to a small six-pack of beers, a little “thank you for helping me”. He already needs one now, a bit of liquid courage to help him cross the threshold into his ex-enemy's home. Something to soothe the stirring waves of nauseous anxiety, and maybe just a bit of... fear.

Not fear in the same way he's used to, with Billy around, not the fear of getting punched and shoved again. No, more like a fear of the unknown, stronger than what he felt after his break-up, the fear of being alone. Fear of what a friendship with Hargrove would mean, would _release_ from behind the curtain of his subconscience, curtains he's only unintentionally peeked behind at night when he's unable to control anything in his dreams.

Then he looks up at the front door. His house is so... small. Compared to Steve's at least, but his own home is basically a haunted mansion, grand and empty with only ghosts of his parents. Still, it might have been nicer to study there, not in what's basically a shack in comparison.

His heart beats an uncomfortable rhythm against his ribs, making his hands slip slightly on the wheel as he sweats up a storm of anticipation, mind no less at ease.

“Hey, I hear you're having troubles with your grades,” he remembers Billy saying, leaning against the locker next to Steve's, pendant visible by the way of an unbuttoned shirt. “Come to my house this weekend, bring whatever shit you need help with, and I'll see what I can do.”

Steve remembers it so clearly still; the wicked flash of teeth, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, close enough for him to smell the summer's heat on his skin, the low _pretty boy_ escaping as a whisper before he walked off again.

That was last Thursday, and Steve never expected to spend his Saturday this way. Any day, really. And maybe that's why it's so hard to leave his car, the heat quickly gathering in this closed space, although whether it's from the summer sun or his own thoughts is anyone's guess by now.

But eventually he finds himself by the front door, the rush from his car to here a bit of a blur, and he feels kinda... out of breath? Somehow? Blood rushing in his ears and lungs craving air as if he had just finished an intense game of basketball, legs wobbly from over exertion, yet all he had done today was take a shower and drive here.

He manages a weak knock on the front door, then reaches for the doorbell. While it echoes within, the hand flies up to wipe the sweat off of his forehead and up through the hair, to slick back that fresh _poof_ he always manages to build.

Yet when the ringing dies down, there no response, no approaching footsteps, and Steve's brow furrows. His eyes fall to his wrist where he's forgotten to put on his watch, to which he curses gently under his breath.

“Hello?” he calls out and steps to peek through the windows, but there's no sign of life inside.

Maybe Billy forgot, maybe he's asleep, maybe he's _still in bed_. Before Steve even gets to think anything else, he knocks three times more, pushes the doorbell twice.

He turns around just to double-check that that absolutely is Billy's signature blue parked by the road. His teeth bites at his lower lip, chews a bit on the skin there, when he cautiously reaches for the door, hand trembling.

_Will he be mad if I just... go in? Is this breaking and entering? What if it was just a joke, a way for Hargrove to tease and mock my inability to just fucking do my own homework._

Despite everything telling him not to, his skin crawling and chest too tight, he finds the door unlocked, and it's almost as if it was just _waiting_ for him to open it with how easily it moves inward.

“Hargrove, you here?” Steve asks loudly.

His feet seemingly move on their own, carrying him smoothly inside where he closes the door near silently, and continues through the living room, down a hall with no real thoughts in his head left. All the anxiety and hesitance washed away when he realized he's all alone. Sure he's in the Hargrove's residence, but he's seemingly the only one present. There's a certain emptiness to the air that feels uncomfortably familiar with that of his own home.

Somehow the first door he gently pushes open is the one to Billy's bedroom.

Steve peeks over his shoulder, checking there's not some enraged, huffing and puffing, tanned lifeguard standing ready to cave in his face for having entered without permission. But the quiet of the house encourages him, in some odd manner, to take a step further, _just enough_ for his toes to pass on to the other side of the doorway.

It's dark in here; the sun barely able to come through several layers of curtains covering the windows, lights off. But looking around isn't what interests him, doesn't care to look at the posters of half-naked ladies and Metallica, ignores the laundry haphazardly thrown around on the floor and the sofa. No, all he can focus on, is the _smell_.

The air is stuffy - feels thick on his tongue as he inhales till his lungs threaten to rip open. The room smells just like Billy, like a teenager becoming a man, sweat and cologne and testosterone, all blending together to form a heavy stench. A musk that offenses the nose at first, punches you like he would, so intrusive that you can almost taste it, the odor most dominant in the locker room until the boys start removing their shoes.

He takes a step further in. The heat in his stomach quickly turned, changed for better or for worse, he can't say, can't guess- think. The scent of _him_ barges through, swirls violently in his head as it wrestles his thoughts into submission, through his lungs and down, down, _down_.

It's so intoxicating and addicting; Steve can't stop taking deep breaths in an attempt to carve this into his memory. Nancy didn't have a scent- a distinctive smell that made her stand out from any other girl, they all smelled the same to him, of flowers and sweet things, nothing present enough for him to specifically differentiate.

But this was _everything_ _to him_. Gross hormone filled air, filling him, his lungs, his soul, his-

He drops his backpack onto the sofa, places the six-pack on the bedside table. _This is a bad idea_ , he thinks to himself; the only real consistency of today, of this bizarre Saturday.

His feet stop moving as his legs hit the bed.

It's definitely been slept in recently, the sheets pulled back and the pillow ruffled. There's a clear dip in the cheap mattress where Billy's broad figure rests every night, a definite memory pressed into the fabric there, and Steve feels it when he sits down. Just on the edge of it, barely even there at all, no evidence of him having been here, he hopes.

_This is bad, very bad, I should get up- should wait for Bil- for Hargrove to show up. Or I should leave, maybe he forgot, he probably did, maybe he went for a walk, left his car behind._

Another deep inhale, and he's stopped dead in his tracks. It's _so strong here_ , the scent of him, the aroma, the _stench_ of salty, tangy sweat, emanating from the bed- _Billy's bed_.

Heavy eyes stare holes into the poor pillow that has seen the most use of the ones on the bed, and with no self-control, Steve's hand moves.

Glides over the linen, over the light plaid pattern, to one edge of a pillow in the same design. Fingertips lift from the mattress and onto this pillow, the one still with a deep imprint and a few golden strands of fallen hair. Hand trembles like a flower as it moves there, a lump in his throat and heartbeat in his ears.

He shifts slightly, still careful as if he would wake up the image of Billy lying there, in that imitation of his body, sweaty, naked, _hard_. _Touching himself_ as boys do- as men do, when they're all alone, in bed, surrounded by naked posters, undoubtedly a nudie mag crammed away somewhere for him to stare at as he...

Like a magnet to metal, Steve's whole world gets pulled down, _closer_. He slips out of his sandals, onto his knees, hands on either side of the pillow to keep him from crashing into it as he nearly jumps forward.

This is a place he never thought to be, never even could have imagined to experience, in Hargrove's room, on his cheap, shitty mattress, fists closing around the sheets. He should stop; he really should go sit on the sofa instead, or go wait in the living room, pretend he never came to know such a strong scent, _his_ strong scent, that he never reached a realization.

To realize this, this... this one thing, Nancy never could have given him, this one thing he never could have asked of her. Never would have asked of anyone. Could have gone all his life without this, blissfully unaware of something waiting to awaken inside, _wanting_ to awaken. But now, slowly, the curtain to his subconscience pulled aside, slightly, just enough to give a bit more than a simple peek at what's behind.

Enough for him to...

Steve leans down, gingerly, having to resist the very strong, very real urge to just lie down flat, disturb the invisible figure there with his own, push his face deep into the pillow and inhale it till the body odor is part of himself wholly. His body is on fire, burning with a wild mix of emotions - embarrassment, fear, anxiety, _need, lust, arousal_. The white tank top and green shorts choking him, too many layers suddenly on his heated body, the stuffy air creating a haze in his mind, the odor here astounding.

His nose finally a hairs width away from the pillow, just barely feel a tickle against the tip as he sniffs at it, holds in the smell as if it was from a puff of weed, as if it would go away if he stopped holding it inside him. And when he exhales, something dangerously close to a moan escapes his separated lips in a stutter.

But it's not enough. He presses his nose lightly against the fabric now, inhales _deeper_ , feels his chest fill up, shivers skating down his spine to where he started fattening up at the first hint of Billy's stench earlier.

He should... he should stop while he's ahead. Stop now, while he's still alone with a chance of regaining composure, keeping his dignity in tact. While there's still time to stop his growing erection before it becomes too obvious in the light confines of his briefs, where he can still lie to himself and forget this ever happened. Before Billy comes in here, to catch Steve on all fours, ass in the air on his bed, panting like any other girl he undoubtedly brings here... But what if this is his only chance? The first _and last_ time he gets to feel this way, to experience such exhilarating titillation, to have reached near half mast only by the scent of him alone.

Then it's all too late. The thought of Billy... catching him like this... bent forward, needy. What if he didn't get mad, but instead he...

Steve rests on one elbow now, his arm underneath the pillow where he buries his nose as far into the worn softness as he can, breath just short of moans as he gasps for air occasionally. His right hand finds a short adventure down south, below his stomach, between his legs.

“ _Ah!_ ” comes the first proper moan, as his hand cups his near fully erect dick through the shorts and underwear. He wants to pull it out. Wants to tear off the restraints, get a firm grip around his aching cock and jerk himself to the images of Billy behind him, above him, _inside him_. Wants those forbidden dreams to come alive, the ones he remembers the most vividly.

Porn never did this to him, playful thoughts of men enjoying each others company never managed to get him anywhere, _but Billy_. His hand presses harder through cloth, back arching with every little, pathetic thrust his hips managed. He needs to stay clothed, keep the shorts on, in case he needs to bolt; if he gets caught and has to flee it's easier without anything to stumble over.

“ _Fuck_ ” he could so easily cum like this, entombed in _his_ scent, _his_ sheets, _his_ room. It builds far too fast, he barely has to try as his entire existence feels overstimulated by the heat of _longing, yearning_ for _Billy_ , his whimpers muffled by the pillow, he feels the cotton briefs stick to where pre cum get smeared by the ball of his palm.

“Need a hand?” a low hum comes from the door.

The words cuts like a knife, so suddenly stabbing through the deeply distracted mind of Steve, he screams like a scared little boy and jolts awake to where his back crashes with the wall. And it hurts, his chest and heart a battlefield bombed by the intense fear that comes with being caught, dick in hand, seconds away from reaching climax on someone's bed.

He stares like a deer in headlights up at where Billy stands in the doorway, hand in pocket and shoulder leaning against the door frame. His shirt is only a few buttons away from falling off, jeans tight as always. A grin of mischief sliced across his face, teeth shiny, his tongue slowly peeks out to expertly slip over his lips, _licking_ from one corner to the other.

Steve is in _pain_ , convinced this is how he'll die, despite the way Hargrove stares like he's his favorite meal, splayed out all sweaty and with a strong tent between the thighs. He crawls into the corner, drags the pillow along to cover his _aching cock_ , heart about to burst open and explode inside him, worse than when his ex-girlfriend broke it.

“H-how long-” his voice a few pitches too high as he attempts to communicate like a human probably would. “How long have you b-been standing there?”

Billy just stares for far too long, eyes piercing through the darkness, fixated heavily on the incredible red blush spread across Steve's frightened face. His grin widens. “Not long.” He steps in.

The door closes, shrouding the bedroom even further from what light the hallway offered, and Steve can't see shit for a moment, eyes strained to make it through the darkness. Billy stays by the door, back against the wood and a hand _high up_ on his thigh, thumb pushing at _something_ _underneath_.

“Couldn't stand to just stay here and watch you like this, _princess_ ,” his voice so deep, so full of _intent_.

Steve feels his heart flip at that- stomach too, he was nauseous from the hurricane inside, slightly dizzy from being torn back to reality so quickly, so abruptly, body irritated for not having found release.

“What?” he breathes.

The more his eyes gets used to the darkness, the more of Billy he sees; sees the hand on his thigh move again, higher up, just below the belt, presses against what might be a bulge underneath the zipper. Could just be a trick of the light, or rather lack thereof.

Billy rests his head against the door, lower lip caught between teeth, eyes trained on Steve's, and even in this darkness, the blonde can easily sense that their gazes don't meet, what with the other's eyes falling far further down. Down where his strong fingers harshly drags along the outline of his chubby dick. A sound escapes him that could easily be misconstrued for a moan.

“You know...” he mumbles lowly as he kicks off of the door and takes a few confident steps towards the bed. His hands stays there in front, adjusting himself through the denim with the occasional groan. “Always was just a bit jealous.”

“What?” Steve can't look away, paralyzed by the beguiling movement of a tan hand on pale jeans.

“Don't think I never noticed you looking.” He stops in front of the bed, caging Steve in the corner with no way to get out of reach. “When you think no one's watching you, you stare, _a lot._ Made me wonder...”

Steve swallows hard, pulls his knees closer to his chest, pillow still soft between his legs. “...what?” his voice is softer now, maybe calmed slightly by the fact he hasn't felt a fist in his face yet. He's not sure what kind of answer he expects, as he asks again “Wonder what?”

“If this is why Nancy broke up with you. She find out you're a _fag_?” His smile is so wide, cracked from one ear to another, evil and mean in the way a predator might show teeth before biting into its victim.

And the words hurt. It's not really a surprise, Steve expected nothing less from the asshole Hargrove, he almost knew they were coming from the second he got caught here. It's a dull pain, but it's there, lumping up in his throat and threatening to push tears out where his eyes start to sting.

“I'm not-”

Words fail him when Billy puts a knee onto the bed. “Not, what, a fag? A little queer? A homo?”

“Stop it...”

The bed creaks under the muscled weight of Billy as he places another knee on it, confident and firm as he balances on the edge of the mattress. His teeth-flashing smirk never falters as he leans forward over the small bed, barely the size for one and a half person, especially not when one of those persons would be Billy Hargrove, all broad shouldered and thick with muscle.

Steve cannot move, no matter how much he wants to. Wants to scream, punch, legs jittery with adrenaline telling him to run and flee. Wants to... to touch. Touch that sun-kissed, godly body, those smooth pecks, wants to taste the sheen of sweat that gathers there during basketball practice, wonders if he tastes like he smells. _Wants to feel those hips locked between his thighs._

He hugs the pillow tighter, strangles it and grinds lightly against it, unintentionally, mind somewhere else for a moment. His breathing changes, lowers, slows down as he can sense the heat from Billy's nearing presence, and _that smell..._

_Kiss me... Kiss me. Kiss me!_

Words haven't been spoken in what feels like minutes, maybe up to 30 minutes, who knows in this odd limbo where fate is still being determined. Whoever moves next decides what game they're playing, the outcome of this incredibly tense situation. Tense with something akin to fear, but less deadly and more distressing, mixed with the heavy air of arousal, of sexual tension that might always have been there; might have been the cause for _everything_ between the two. For what Billy might be jealous about.

And those words echo inside, bounces around the emptiness of anticipation, clashing together to create sparks of his own wonder in Steve's mind. _Was Billy jealous of me? Or... of Nancy... is that what changed between us..._

So Steve makes the first move, a test to see what will happen next, if he...

He looks up and immediately catches those blue eyes staring down, where he sees how Billy's face has fallen from that high and mighty narcissistic grin to something... less. Almost hesitant, as if _he's_ the one to be worried here, eyes pleading for a response underneath a troubled brow. It's almost nice to see, to know that the tough exterior can soften like this, the sight of a nervous bully, a distressed enemy. _An apprehensive friend._

And Steve is the next to move again. His heart back in his chest, beating with a calmer rhythm yet heavier thump.

_Kiss. Me. Touch. Me. Hold. Me._

Muscles relaxes fully, _finally -_ they're almost sore from being so strained and tense with fear. At a hesitant but calm pace, he moves his feet apart, carefully tries to let each slip near Billy's knees, and when there's no sudden movements from the other guy, he lets them touch against the denim. Feet spread but knees still clinging together.

Billy exhales, hard and a bit loud in relief. A breath he's been holding for minutes. Days. Months. _Years_. A smile is back on his lips, underneath that faint mustache, softer this time, _sweeter_. He takes a shaky breath and tentatively brings a hand to Steve's cheek where his fist once felt like it belonged.

Steve can't blink, won't look away for even a second as he sees Billy in a different light, _sort of_ , so oddly... nice and delicate with the way his palm touches the side of his own clean-shaven face, warm and lovely and _finally_. He leans into it.

His thumb slips away from the cheekbone to gently graze the curve of Steve's upper lip, all the way to where it reaches the corner, then down to run across the bitten-red lower lip, rubs the pad of his thumb there in the middle. And finally Steve blinks, an exhale with the promise of moans escapes as he opens his mouth, _an invite_.

It happens in less than a second. Steve bends forward till he's sitting more upright, meets Billy as he lungs forward, falls easily between the knees when they spread, but stops still at a distance where he's not touching _anything_ without permission. Both his hands choking the bedding by Steve's hips; the brunette's hands grabbing on to the sides of the strong jaw, fingers dipping into those golden curls.

And within that little second, Steve felt himself go from that doubtful place in his head back to near full throttle, his erection that disappeared completely out of shock ready to kick it up a notch again, as he moans encouragingly.

“ _Oh fuck, Harrington_ ,” Billy groans back between their sloppy, open mouthed kisses, tongues dancing perfectly in sync as if they've been practicing this for years.

“You taste of, _ah_ , of cigarettes,” Steve manages to utter, his voice worn already. “Where were you?”

“I was helping the neighbor, but who fucking cares right now!”

A hand grabs on to Steve's hip, the touch so low on his body sends jolts straight to where all his blood is quickly setting up tent down south. He loses the rhythm then, has to moan instead as fingers press bruises into his skin.

Steve's legs spread wide, almost as if an innate instinct guides him to do so, one knee against the wall, the other down flat against the mattress as he opens as much as he can, the length of his cock irritated in its cotton prison.

And Billy takes that proposition for all that it's worth; he crawls closer, pushes Steve till he's caught in the corner again, almost lying down, then _dips his hips_ down to where he slots perfectly in between soft, pale thighs. It's almost as if this place is made for him; carved to fit the exact mold of his strong hips, as he presses _down_ , _rock hard_ in his now painfully tight jeans, against where Steve's fast growing erection struggles with its own restrictions.

The moan that escapes Steve upon this touch could undoubtedly be heard all across Hawkins, maybe even all the way to California. A loud, shocked, _thrilled moan_. And it's hard to stop, impossible to not continue whining and inhaling hard as Billy rocks his hips there, grinds their dicks together, the sensation so vehemently passionate, but they both _know_ it would be better without at least four layers of clothing.

“Where- _ah, aahh! Fuck-_ where's Max? Or your dad?” Steve moans into his ear, faces pressed hard against each other as they chase their high.

“Not home is, _ah_ , all I kno-ow...” Billy groans, thrusts a bit harder than necessary, but fuck, this... this is obscuring any thoughts.

He dips down, sucks and licks and nibbles down Steve's sweaty neck, to where he meets the crook, a place he's so often wanted to _bite_ into.

“ _Ah, yes, yes!_ ” Steve pushes his hips up at that sensation, moaning words that even surprises him, as he feels those sharp canine teeth dig into his flesh with such a voracious appetite.

Billy finds it fit to quickly slip his hand underneath as Steve lifts up to meet the thrusts, his firm hand grabbing firmly onto a cheek, eliciting another whimper, one more _needy_ , _begging for more_ in Billy's ears.

Every touch, every grind, feels like a part of a revelation to Steve; that curtain in his mind rustling wildly, something behind it, _someone_ behind it, trying to feel their way to the edges, where they yank it away to reveal _him_. _Billy_. Standing as naked and _thick_ as the first time he witnessed it all after basketball.

That image branded itself in his mind, and perhaps it was then everything started to unravel for poor, “heterosexual” Steve. Maybe if he never had the chance to be so close to Billy, bumping together on the court, showering next to one another, then maybe he'd have fought harder for Nancy.

And now, here in Hargrove's bed, the intense musk of hormonal teenagers enveloping him, the strong and forceful thrusts pressing him deeper and deeper into the worn bed, all those thoughts about his ex gets chipped away till it's nothing but dust in the wind, as Billy _rams_ himself into the picture instead.

“You have no- _hff_ , no idea how long I've... I've wanted this...” Billy groans into the neck where his devilish tongue licks.

Steve can only moan to show he acknowledges the words, hands grasping at the shirt on his back.

“How often I... jerk off to the thought of you.”

He wraps his legs around Billy's waist, feels him thrust _deeper, lower_.

“Ever since I first saw you in the showers. How _hard_ I got that night, fantasizing about having taken you right then and there, when everyone would have left. Dirty you all up again and lick you clean.”

“ _F-fuh-ck, Billy,_ ” Steve moans, an immense joy warming his chest, knowing Billy has been there all along, yearning for _him_. That anyone still wanted him.

“ _Yeah princess?_ ” His voice all fucked up and hoarse.

“I-I want...”

Billy pulls away to look down at the flushed brunette, looking near like a virgin again in the hands of someone who has probably done it all. Things were different in California.

“I want you...”


	2. Part 2

He thrusts slower, leans back and gingerly grabs on to Steve's hips. From here he can see it all too well; the dark spot of pre cum on those green shorts, the brown locks sticking to a sweaty forehead. “Want me to what?” With hands on those hips, he holds on firmly and _grinds_ his steely cock down, down, _down_.

Steve can't think, he misses the heat, the source of the scent too much, one hand grabbing for the unbuttoned shirt, the other to push his hair out of his face, eyes screwed shut.

“Come on, _pretty boy_ , tell me and I might just give you what you want.”

“I...I...” Every word an embarrassing confession. “I want you to... touch me.” He pulls on the shirt, _begging_ for him to come closer again.

Billy grins, eyes all hungry and teeth watering. “Oh yeah?” His hand moves from the hip and up the stomach, it crawls under the white top to leave burning marks of electricity on the excited skin. “Like this?” he teases.

“Down...” the word a feverish exhale.

“Oh, so...” The hand slowly, _painfully so_ , traces its way down the soft skin, over the navel to where a hairy trail starts. “Down... here?” He stops just at the waistband of white briefs peeking up from beneath the green shorts.

“Yes... _please._ ” Steve squirms with anticipation.

Billy bends down, close enough that Steve can feel his ragged breathing, his words a growl; “You did say _please._ ” And he licks his tongue flat across a cheek, receiving a slight whimper till he overtakes the source, prods his tongue in to lick the inside of Steve's mouth.

He kisses his way down the neck, across the beating chest beneath the white shirt, feels the beat flutter wildly as his fingers finds their way underneath both layers covering Steve's dick. And when Steve himself lifts his ass up from the creaky bed, Billy leisurely pulls at the elastic bands, down inch by inch, revealing more and more of that thick, heavy, dark, unkempt _forest_ Steve's been hiding away. His leaking prick _slaps_ loudly against his stomach as it springs free, a light relieved gasp from its owner at the freedom. He keeps going, keeps pulling till the green shorts slip off of those hairy legs and flops onto the floor.

Billy sits back on his knees, admiring the view on his bed in the dimly lit room, a hand caressing a shin. Steve lies still with his eyes closed, chest heaving expectantly, legs spread to grant a _gorgeous_ view of his _long, slender, leaking cock_.

“B... Billy?” Steve whispers, oddly worried to look, worried the other has started regretting this. But when he peeks up, he catches Billy staring, unblinking, somewhat in awe?

And when he snaps out of his trance, Billy licks his lips, pulls the lower one in as he bites down hard on it. The hand travels up from where it was playing with a hairy leg, pressed warm as he guides it up a quivering thigh, hears Steve inhale at the same pace till he stops _just short_ of touching.

There's a pause - the most suspenseful one Steve has ever felt in his whole melodramatic career as a dysfunctional teenager. “Billy?” he tries his name again, still not having received a response from the other one.

“This is it, pretty boy,” Billy speaks lowly when he lets go of his swollen lip.

“What?” Steve rests with his elbows on the bed, an icky coldness rushes through him suddenly.

“If I... if _we_ continue, there's no going back.” He sounds almost... worried. “I've thought about this _a lot_ , _Steve_ , I mean damn, look at you, how could I not.” He laughs nervously and runs the distant hand through his golden crown of a hair, the other hand itching to move near that full erection on display. “You have to understand that I... I can't just be your friend again, after all... _this_.”

“Billy,” Steve hurries to speak before Billy might accidentally talk himself outta this. “Who... who says I want that either?”

Billy freezes at that, at the notion of what's to come if they... if he... His eyes blown wide, mouth slightly ajar.

“Maybe I don't wanna be your friend!” It came out too forcefully, too harshly, as Steve struggles to properly announce his thoughts, to somehow stitch them all together in the right away. “Maybe I don't wanna be your enemy, either! I don't want to _fight you_ , _Billy_. I just _want you_ , _now_ , here, with me, in your bed. I want to do this with _you,_ and no one else! We can- we can find out later what this all means to us, but can't we just for now enjoy this moment together, alone, like this?”

Steve didn't notice as he talked, rambled, the growing smile on Billy's face, how his lids fell, pupils blown. Didn't notice anything till Billy was _so close_ to him again, and he gasped at the sudden lack of distance.

“You want this?” he drawls.

The words, the voice, the insinuation of _this_ paints Steve's skin with a pink, heated blush, ear to ear. Billy's breath tickles his lips as there is nothing but a light “ _yes_ ” between them.

And they stay like that, lips meeting again and again, heads never moving far in case it'd break the perfect rhythm they so easily fall into, whilst Billy impatiently pulls and pushes at the remaining buttons on his shirt till they're all free and he can tear it off.

Steve takes this moment to stare, again, as he has so many times in gym and the locker rooms, in the halls or at the pool, gaze touching, scanning, _remembering_ every single inch of tanned skin smoothly pulled over taut muscles. But he wastes no time, has already waited too long for _more_ just today alone, grabs the belt buckle and swiftly pulls it out of its reigns.

Billy lets him do all the work, enjoys watching as the pretty boy eagerly pops the button and unzips, then pauses as he sees the black trunks underneath. Steve looks up at him, didn't expect the intense stare and the open mouth that pulls at the corners when their eyes meet.

He looks down again, eye-level with those incredible abs, the ones he's wanted to touch, to _taste_ for so long, for what feels longer than it is, like eternity stretched over just a year or so by now.

Then realizes that this is it; this is his chance to _taste_ , to find out if Billy tastes as incredible as he smells, feels how damp the skin is from all their heavy petting and the summer sun. Plants a kiss on each row of the growing six-pack, down to where the v starts forming like an arrow pointing him down further, where he's waxed his happy trail off, smooth on every surface.

Now, where his lips meets the border of black briefs, Steve lets out his tongue and runs it flat and sloppy up to stop just short of the navel, feels the skin twitch, muscles flex, and hears Billy hiss an abrupt “ _Jesus, Steve,_ ” from above.

And it's better than he could have ever hoped for, not that he realized it was something he wanted at all till today. His sweat tastes even better than it smelled, so salty, so heavily masculine, a league of its own, more savory than any expensive steak he would ever set his teeth in. Which is something he briefly attempts at; teeth scraping against those hard muscles, biting the best he can at the flesh here, tongue slipping across as a sloppy apology, every sting of every bite producing possibly the heaviest, guttural groans from above.

“ _Shit, Steve,_ you're gonna kill me. Could you maybe speed it up a bit down there?!” The impatience to his tone brings forth a wide, satisfied grin on Steve's own face.

“Patience is a virtue,” he laughs.

“Yeah?” Billy pulls at his hair, tugs him away from where his body squirms. “I've been patient ever since I saw you on all fours, palming yourself through those tiny shorts, begging for me.”

The way he describes it makes Steve's hard cock visibly _kick_ and weep, those words so lewd and vulgar.

“You liked watching?” Steve perks up a brow and trails his own hand down, down, _down_. Breathes harshly for a moment as he grabs on to his impressive length that he lazily pulls at.

“It was the hottest, most _erotic_ thing I've ever seen. I can't wait to be _inside of you,_ make you moan so desperately for me as I _fuck you_ into my bed here.”

His hand moves faster, unintentionally, lip caught between teeth to depress the moans that wants to bounce around the room.

“Ah-ah!” Billy says with that shit eating grin, and grabs _tightly_ on to Steve's wrist, stopping the quickening motion.

With a cocky brow raised far too high, full of certain intentions, he guides Steve's hand towards himself, to where his tongue was earlier, his lips too. Places the palm against his stomach, the fingertips just shy of the black trunks, locks eyes with Steve.

And he doesn't look away from those piercing eyes, as he digs his fingers beneath the waistband, into the hellish heat gathered down there, fuck, he could defrost Antarctica with this raised temperature. Then he finally finds what he was fishing for so blindly, and the sight of Billy's brow knitting together tightly, accentuated by his sharp inhale through gritted teeth, seems heaven sent, the gasp and moan as Steve wraps his fingers around... _wow_.

Eyes looks down in a flash of a second. Billy is quick, too, pulls the jeans and trunks down to reveal that Steve is grasping gingerly on to the _girthiest_ , _thickest, veiny_ dick he's ever seen this close; not that he's been this close to a lot, mind you. But no porn star could hold a candle to... _this_. Sure he had _looked_ a few times in the showers when he believed no one would notice, but to hold it? Be this close? To marvel at it in its fully erect size, was a shocking wonder, and Steve's mouth dropped open a bit.

“ _Billy, holy fuck,_ ” he breathes.

“Yeah, that's what all the bitches say,” Billy responds with the most irritating self-confidence, a real eye-roller if Steve had had the ability to move his eyes, that is.

“Do you wax?”

“Of course, gotta keep the slide clean and free for _all_ ,” he chuckles in a deep manner that rumbles all the way to where Steve has his dick in hand.

“Yeah, I, uh...” Suddenly Steve's never been more self-conscious and doubtful of his own nakedness. “I didn't... prepare for this, so...”

“Steve, what, no!” Billy tips up his face by the chin, _forcing_ those eyes away from his extensive manhood and up to meet his gaze instead. “You are far more perfect than I could ever have _dreamed of_.”

Oh his heart, how it aches, the beat of it knocking something loose inside, yet he can't help but grin. “You dream about me?”

“Of course I do, pretty boy,” Billy flashes that knee-trembling grin and darts out a suggestive tongue. He gives Steve a hard shove so that he falls back into place. “Dream about you all the time. About how lovely it'd be to _fuck you_. Every girl I have been with here at Hawkins, I'd think of _you_.”

He leans down, crawls closer to bite at Steve's gasping lips, to stare into those deep, lustful eyes. Watches, fixated, as he with a hand grabs both of them, flesh on flesh on flesh, and gets the naughtiest whimper that builds to a moan he's ever heard. With a firm hand he moves up and down, gripping hard, with a thumb he rubs their leaking pre together over the heads.

“Whenever I'd _thrust my hard cock into their wet cunts,_ I'd imagine it was _yours_. My erect dick going _in and out of your clenching hole, tearing you apart with my girth._ ”

Every word a jolt to his pulsating dick, each image better than the last, wanting _that_ , _needy to try_.

“ _Oh, Billy..._ ” he whimpers, searching for a mouth to moan into, but Billy wants to watch him unravel, watch the lips quivering and opening to call his name as he strokes them at a pace too slow.

“ _Yeah_?” he _growls_ , hungry like a lion staring down.

“ _Please_...”

“Want me to _fuck you_? Want my _hard cock in your tight pussy_?” He nibbles at an ear, groans deeply, low, _sensuously_.

“ _Billy, yes, please_ ,” Steve moans out and wraps his legs around him to pull them as close as physically possible.

“ _God_ , it makes me so _hard_ to hear you beg like that.” He leaves a trail of kisses from Steve's ear, down his jaw and up to smash his lips against the pleading ones in a long, hard kiss. One that builds trust, one that Steve finds himself melting into and stilling completely.

He hardly even hears the drawer open, but sure does when it's slammed shut again. And when Billy moves his head to look down, he misses those lips immediately and follows to see what's so much more important than them staying together like this, when...

Billy seems to be in a hurry, the way he tears off the lid of the lube and pours more than a generous amount out. It spills off of his fingers and onto Steve's burning stomach.

“Ah, cold!” He hisses and feels his stomach try to pull away from it.

Icy blue meets dark brown as their eyes connect again, Billy a mix of aroused and _excited_ , oddly enough.

“I just wanna check in, before I... you know... That you're ok with _this_ , because it's gonna be a bit uncomfortable at first,” he sounds so soft, so caring, and Steve can only imagine it's an experience reserved for him.

“Have you done it before?” He asks and pushes those golden curls away so that he can properly see the freckles sprinkled over his nose.

“Yeah, a few times, back in California,” Billy says, almost hesitantly, maybe a bit... ashamed?

And it hurts, it pains Steve to know Billy would ever feel ashamed about anything, especially with something that they're about to do, together, so intimately... But he refuses to take it personally, homophobia being so rampant, it would be impossible to not have moments of doubt.

He'd kiss him if he could reach, but settles for a reassuring peck to the forehead. “Billy, I trust you with this.” Words he never thought he'd say, but they feel right at home.

The smile is soft at first, a nicety that's rare with Billy, which is proven when it widens, curls around his mustache, a lecherous grin. “Oh I'm gonna make you feel _so fucking good, princess_.”

With such a promise, how can Steve not get his hopes up, his blood surging with the erratic heartbeat.

Billy crawls down, down, _down_. Hair tickling as it smoothly dances over Steve's sensitive skin, body raw where those large hands have been feeling him up and holding him down, pressed into the bed, into _his bed_ , taller than Billy himself, but not as broad, not filling the dent there properly.

Two things happen at the same time that nearly short circuit his brain, combusts his mind with new feelings, too unexpected. With his left hand, Billy takes his monumental length in his hand and _licks_ from the bottom of the shaft, aaaaalllll the way up to run it along the underside of the head, forcing out a prolonged “ _aahhhhh_.”

With his right hand all slick and smooth with lube, he glides his middle finger down Steve's perineum, down to circle around his _hole_ , _drenching_ it with the lubricant, so excessive it runs along a cheek, tickling coldly which only makes him tense up.

“You need to relax, Stevie, take deep breaths, like you're meditating or some dumb shit.” Billy kisses his thigh, the left hand moving slowly at a pace that is _barely_ pleasant.

“I-I know, okay, just...” He breathes, deeply, clearly, let's his chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise... and fall. “Do it, k-keep going,” his stuttering gives away just how nervous he is, but _fuck_ does he want this, seen in porn how the guys there react. Can't all be fake, can it?

No warning, no soothing coos, as Billy inserts just the tip of his middle finger, down to where he can bend it at the first joint, and of course Steve tenses up _immediately_ , an uncomfortable groan escaping.

“See? Easy, good- you're doing so good for me, baby.”

“ _Uh-huh,_ ” Steve groans, not sounding very nice at the moment.

It doesn't hurt, no resemblance of pain at all actually, but it is _weird_ , so so odd to have anything up _there_. Honestly he always wanted to _try_ , but could never ask Nancy to do anything like this for fear of rejection, and he was too chicken-shit to try it for himself.

And the finger goes deeper, deeper, _deeper_ , till it can't go further. Sounds that might be close enough to moans gets wiggled out by the movement of Billy's finger _completely_ _inside_.

“So so good. Want me to continue?”

“ _Uh-huh_ ,” he whimpers through jammed shut lips, more encouragingly so this time.

And he inhales sharply as the finger pulls out again, sending shivers and sparks of _something new_ through him to where it flutters in his chest and dives right into his jittery dick. But the finger thrusts right back in before it's all the way out, faster this time, sending undeniable jolts of pleasure up his spine, and Steve can't help but cry out from it.

“Yeah? That good, huh?” Billy chuckles and Steve can feel the grin pressed against his thigh. “I wanna see you, though.”

Finger still inside, still _moving_ to get his body used to the sensation - the foreign touch, Billy crawls as far up as he can while maintaining enough mobility to pump his hand.

“Take my pillows for support so you sit up more, so that I can see everything, so that _you can see everything_.” His eyes are dark and pupils blown to where Steve can barely get a glance of the clear waters and cool tones.

He simply nods with a shaky breath and fumbles after the pillows to build leverage behind him, movement stuttering with every faster thrust. And from up here, there's a clear view, past the dark pubic hair, to where a large, sun-kissed finger disappears and reappears in his hole, his _trembling pussy_.

“ _Billy..._ ” he whimpers, one hand in those gorgeous curls, the other down to choke the life out of the plaid pattern.

“You ready for more?” His voice is right there, so close, so effortlessly _sexy_.

Steve nods as if he's in a hurry to get somewhere, which wouldn't be _entirely_ wrong.

“Fuck, you're so sexy baby. Look at me,” he demands with a growl, tongue sticking out to lightly lick Steve's cheek before he turns to focus with all his might.

When Billy pulls his finger all the way out, it leaves an aching Steve didn't know existed, wondered if girls ever felt this empty when-

Now the tip of both his index and middle fingers press in. His breath hitches, caught up in a bit of pain, a stinging itch as he gets spread _wider_. He fights to keep his breathing steady, his body relaxed, but the deeper he goes, the harder it becomes to keep eye contact, to watch Billy watch him as if he's the most exquisite piece of art, the most interesting movie, the most beguiling person to have ever lived. And by the time those fingers reach the middle knuckle, he just _can't_.

“ _Fuuuuuuuuhhhhck,_ ” he moans in the most arousing tone, feels how Billy's cock leaks a bit more onto his hip, rolls his eyes back and closes them.

And when those fingers _bends inside his ass_ , _hits a spot that's hidden there like golden treasure_ , Steve sees stars; the night sky dancing on the inside of his eyelids, lighting up the darkness, each one deserving of the moans.

“ _Oh Billy, ah, fuck_.” If other words exist, Steve doesn't know them at this moment, can't think about anything else in this stupid, horrible world besides _Billy_. “ _Billy_ ,” he's so breathless, voice all fucked as if he's been doing this for hours, body constantly on the verge of falling apart. “ _I-I want you_.”

“I know, I can feel you _sucking me in so good, so thirsty. Your pussy wants me so so bad_.” He goes faster, harder, shoving his way inside so crudely, yet it hits all the right spots, all the right nerves in a way that takes several rounds of _fucking_ to master. Billy's such a fucking slut.

Steve never knew he was into that kind of dirty talk, never tried it before, and it dawns on him that his and Nancy's sex life was _very vanilla_. But this is clearly something Billy's into, feels every single nasty little word mark itself on his skin.

“ _Y-yes, Billy, fuck me, please, I need your dick in me- in my p-pussy._ ” The word feels so wrong; not in a gross and detestable way, but more as if they don't belong in his mouth that way – as if he's somehow mispronouncing them.

“Not yet, _soon_ , you won't be able to handle me just yet. _Two fingers are nothing compared to my steely cock_.” Billy's so full of it, all up on a throne of self-confidence, talks as if he's the _king_.

Yet Steve doesn't doubt it. He's _seen_ that _steely cock_ up close, held it in his hand, _definitely_ more than two fingers, even three, but he _aches_ for release, for that intense width to _fill him up_.

The third finger stings the most, which comes as no surprise, but he has barely any time to think about that as Billy shows no mercy, picks up the speed near immediately, far too eager, has shown enough of that “Patience is virtue” bullshit for one day, and with the way Steve calls his name and moans up a storm, mumbling about how good it feels, he can't wait.

“You think you're ready?” he asks, but it seems mostly rhetorical, because before Steve can even respond, with a definite yes of course, Billy has grabbed the bottle again and squeezed it onto his achingly eager fat dick.

He strokes himself just to cover every inch of his salami-sausage sized erection, one he had been able to maintain in all its veiny glory without even touching, the lewd, _delicious_ sounds coming from Steve enough.

Then he presses the tip to the fluttering hole.

And he looks up at the other, into those dark, needy eyes, words completely unnecessary as he waits for reassurance. Which he gets in the form of a nod.

Billy was right, _two fingers are nothing compared to his steely cock_. “ _Oh, ahh,_ ” escapes Steve as he winces and inhales sharply, the head barely in and he's already prepared to crawl away.

“I know, _I know_ ,” Billy worries and kisses him, softly on the cheeks, quickly along the jaw and presses their lips together so tenderly, it brings a notion of... something forth. “You're doing amazing, _fuck hn_ , I promise you won't regret this, just hang on.”

His words so gentle and caring and nice, it breaks the _cool badass_ image a bit, nearly confuses Steve. “I'm fine, just... keep going, just feels so _tight_.”

Billy laughs at that, chokes back a very easy remark of “ _you're telling me_.” With his hand still plenty wet with lube, he carefully takes a hold of Steve's own dick and rubs it lightly.

“ _Fuck, arh,_ ” Steve continues moaning, does his best to relax and breathe right.

Every stroke Billy makes does alleviate it a bit; the pleasure and pain merging together in a messy, boiling pool in his stomach. But his hole _keeps stretching_ the deeper Billy goes, it feels endless, like how are there still _more_.

“ _God, Billy, you're so fucking... BIG_ ,” he whines, a proper, more pain than pleasure, whine. He turns to bury those sounds in Billy's lips, doesn't want him to hear, in case he'd stop, but they've come so far, it's too late and they both _need_ to release this tension.

“Don't...” Billy's face seems made out of stone, the way he stares, unblinkingly at Steve's weakened state. “Don't say it like that... I might not- I won't be able to... to hold back if you talk like that.”

And when Steve laughs at that, his body shakes, his _muscles tenses, clenching_ , and it would take a stronger man than Billy to keep still. He _thrusts_ instinctively into the heat, to be consumed so completely by the contractions that just _sucks him right in_.

Steve's hand leaves the sheet alone to go hold back a cry, screws his eyes shut to keep a pained tear in as he's _finally full_. It's so _overwhelming,_ so _utterly perfect_ , where he can feel the base of Billy's expansive cock pressed against him. Past the pain, the straining and burning, there's a sense of _fulfillment_ , like a puzzle piece falling into place, and he doesn't quite know what that is, or why he feels that way _now_ , but the pure, unadulterated _arousal_ clouds his mind, shoves everything else away. There's only room for Billy, and Billy's-

“Steve! Are you ok? I'm so sorry I don't know what happened, I just-” Billy talks so fast, _too fast_ for Steve to catch up.

He shushes him, kisses the words away. “ _Billy, please, just fuck me gently._ ”

And his smile is that of relief, comforted by those words, goaded on by them, too. The lips pull further apart as his jaw drops to let little moans drip out, in sync with the very gentle thrusts, barely pulling out before dipping right in again. The “ _ah, Steve,_ ” tailored perfectly for his voice.

His gruff, low voice, that sends waves down over Steve's chest, streaming from where his own lungs sends out moans, down over the whirlpool in the warm pit of his stomach, to where Billy strokes his throbbing dick so effectively, it's as if it just comes naturally to him. As if he was always meant to do that- to do _this_ , with Steve, and Steve only. As if fate itself had woven their lives together from the start, made them specifically for... for...

“ _Ah_ ,” he moans. “ _B-Billy..._ ”

Billy's head pops up from where he's been sucking marks into Steve's collar, low enough for it to be hidden by the right shirt. “Yeah?” he moans against the side of his face.

“ _M-more, please!_ ”

He smirks, oh so satisfied with himself, with Steve, the way he looks so fucked up, hair a mess and eyes barely open. “Anything for _you_.”

The pain returns slightly, if only for a moment when he picks up the pace a bit. Faster but not harder, the wet slaps of his balls against Steve's ass such an obscene sound, so vulgar in a way that fills him with utter _delight_.

Because Billy's a gross guy, a vile piece of shit asshole, that likes his women loose, sex to be sloppy and messy, and to _fuck **hard**_. The self-restraint he shows now, here, balls deep inside of King Steve, the normally preppy little rich kid moaning for _him_ , calling _his_ name, melting into _his_ bed, is proof that even the wildest of beasts can be tamed. It's something he has been wanting for since day one, even before he got to see this amazing, soft, clumsy body on the court, unable to plant his fucking feet, even before he got to see the supply shape of his naked ass in the showers.

He's not going to ruin this. Not when he's finally gotten to scratch that itch he got left with when they moved away from the sunny beaches of California. Not when he gets to stare down at the _near pornographic face Steve makes_ , a face he _knows_ no one else has ever seen- not even that stupid fucking bitch Nancy.

A hand on his cheek brings him back again, as he realizes Steve is staring right up at him.

“ _Billy_ ,” his voice low, needy, nearly a soft cry. “ _I-I'm so close, I need-_ ”

Billy can't help to finish his sentence with a carnal growl; “ _More?_ ”

There's barely a need for an answer, their souls connected by slapping, sweaty skin. And Billy leans back, kneels upright, tongue darting out to taste where Steve's lips had just been, an addictive aftertaste of spit in his mouth. And he watches, as Steve looks down where they're connected, where he plants those strong, _manly_ hands on Steve's pale hips. Watches as Steve arches his back when he slams in _faster, harder, hitting perfectly with every single thrust_. Like a fucking horse galloping, hips snapping into thighs, balls slapping, his breath ragged and hoarse, Steve's loud and _euphoric_.

Watches when Steve wraps his long fingers around his own dick, unable to look away for a second as that hand flies over the skin there, notices just how his palm rubs the head at every jerk, every little twist of the wrist, plans on remembering the very obvious pattern. Fuck, the sight of Steve jerking it, timed with every lunge he makes into his warm, slippery ass, _he's so fucking close._

Steve grips on to Billy's arm, as far up as he can, knuckles turning white, painfully so as he nearly bruises the skin there. It was the only way he could communicate now, one push away from the edge, few seconds from climax as he feels Billy fucking his fat cock into him, digging harder and harder into the same spot every time, that perfect spot that he reaches so enthusiastically, knows too much about how to make him feel _fan-fucking-tastic_. The spot that makes the stars behind his shut eyes explode like fireworks, makes his toes curl and legs tense up so strongly, it stops Billy from moving barely more than an inch, only just enough for him to snap the head of his dick into that exact same spot that makes Steve cum, _hard_.

“ _Shit, arh,_ ” Billy follows quickly when Steve's _entire body_ tenses up, forcing him along over the edge. He can't control it, doesn't care to right now, his nails cuts into the flesh of Steve's hips, as he shakes and jabs against his will, accompanied by a thick, gravely groan of release.

And time slows down, both of them attempting to catch their breaths as they come back down from having grazed the edges of Nirvana, or something like it.

Steve can't help but smile and huff a laugh with that fucked out voice. This was _exactly_ as wholly _mind-blowing_ as the few gay porns he had seen promised. Not only was it _better_ than sex with any girl, the orgasm proved so much more _fulfilling_ , and again he has to laugh at that, because of course having the thickest fucking cock you'll find anywhere more “fulfilling”.

Billy sits hunched forward, hands on the bed for support, sweat running down his back, his face, dripping off of his nose and onto Steve. He winces every time the other one laughs, causing those ring muscles to clench around his worn out prick. But he doesn't want to pull out yet, wants to be inside of Steve for forever.

“What's so funny?” he asks, hoping the self-conscious anxiety he's feeling doesn't show through. Steve isn't laughing at him, right? At _this_?

“I'm just... so... _happy?_ ” Steve says in disbelief. “I didn't think I was able to feel like this again after... after... after Nancy, y'know?” He wipes the sweat off of his brow and places both his hands on top of his dancing heart doing a victory lap against his ribs.

And _oh fuck oh shit_ , there's that stupid, horrible, insidious feeling is again. The one Billy fights every time he catches even just a glimpse of Steve at any time. That _emotion_ , those _thoughts_ that he doesn't want- isn't ready for.

“Well... glad I could be of help.” He smiles, less than he feels like, a more controlled expression. “Sorry about your shirt.”

Steve looks down, not having actually realized that he came all over it, sticky splotches leaving dark stains on the white cotton. “Oh, well... I have _more at home_.” A moment of silence in respect of the ruined shirt, then, “Can I maybe borrow a shirt? I don't want to go outside looking like... this.”

“Sure,” Billy laughs.

And Steve stares at him.

And he stares at Steve.

It's not a bad silence, no charged tension, no worries about what the other one might be thinking. The space between them filled with refreshing new ideas about what would happen next, what _will_ happen next, with such clear air now.

Then Steve decides to break the silence. “Uhm... are you... gonna pull out soon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos will *easily* encourage me to write more; nothing's better than getting your ego stroked, eh Billy?
> 
> P.S. find out what happens next on my other work, "The next seven days"!
> 
> P.P.S. made a tumblr blog *just* for the sake of engaging easier with the lovely fans of Harringrove, post a few ideas I have, too, take prompt suggestions if there are any!  
> https://cockasinthebird.tumblr.com/


End file.
